


give & be taken

by crookedfingers



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Breathplay, Cunnilingus, Deepthroating, F/M, Frottage, Intercrural Sex, Light D/s, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, PWP, Pegging, Pre-Canon, Threesome - F/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 15:03:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9497264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedfingers/pseuds/crookedfingers
Summary: Ana feels a sudden abundance of generosity. She sits up a little straighter. “Well, since Morrison feels personally victimized, he can choose the results: loser gets fucked; winner gets fucked; or winner’s choice. Call it.”Jack turns his eyes back on Gabriel. They look at each other for a long time: Gabriel with a mild expression like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, and Jack with a kind of calculating intensity like he’s preparing to turn the tide of a battle. “Loser gets fucked,” he says at last, firmly.





	

“Why don’t we go with… rock-paper-scissors.”  
  
Jack, facing Gabriel five feet from the end of the bed, tips his head back and gives an enormous groan. “You know, if you really _want_ a pre-determined outcome, just say so. Don’t bother with the impartiality bullshit.”  
  
“Now what kind of attitude is that?” Ana clucks. “I wouldn’t pick anything _unfair_. I have complete confidence in you.”  
  
“He always fucking wins fucking rock-paper-scissors, and you know that.”  
  
Gabriel nods. “I always win,” he confirms.  
  
Ana spreads her hands placatingly. “But how far did you get last time? It was more than thirty rounds. You’re improving. This could be the time you turn things around!”  
  
Jack just gives her a sour look. He knows that she’s trying to use Mom Tactics on him, and he’s somewhat justifiably annoyed. Jack Morrison hates to lose; but, more than that, he hates _knowing_ that he’s going to lose. Her encouragement is insulting. But all he says is, “Fine. I’ll play.”  
  
Ana feels a sudden abundance of generosity. She sits up a little straighter. “Well, since Morrison feels personally victimized, he can choose the results: loser gets fucked; winner gets fucked; or winner’s choice. Call it.”  
  
Jack turns his eyes back to Gabriel. They look at each other for a long time: Gabriel with a mild expression like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, and Jack with a kind of calculating intensity like he’s preparing to turn the tide of a battle. “Loser gets fucked,” he says at last, firmly.  
  
“Strike Commander Morrison has spoken,” she announces, and both of them snort at the same time. “You may begin!”  
  
Jack and Gabriel launch into the game without a word. They play in complete silence, moving at the exact same time. It’s scissors first, then paper, and paper, and paper, and paper, and rock, and rock, and paper. Ana has gathered her hair over her shoulder and begun braiding it. She’ll want it out of the way later, and she can probably finish the entire braid before there’s an outcome.  
  
She is naked in Jack’s personal quarters, on Jack’s bed, wearing a strap-on harness and lounging beside a line-up of condoms, lubricant, disinfectant, and facial tissues. She feels rather good. She’s guaranteed to have a good time no matter who wins, but Jack and Gabriel respond well to competition. Everything goes better when they have a chance to fight over something beforehand.  
  
They’re in Jack’s quarters because he has the most space, and because this is her favorite place to fuck. It doesn’t feel like a real place. Jack doesn’t really live here; he doesn’t _live_ anywhere. He just exists in some places more than others and strategically arranges things to convey the idea that he actually leads some kind of life in the places he occupies. He’s got an autographed baseball (Ana doesn’t recognize the name and has never asked), and a Christmas cactus, and a high school diploma from an unremarkable town, and three family pictures. The whole room feels like a re-creation from some future museum exhibit on “The Life of Strike Commander Jack Morrison”: a place that _suggests_ something but, if detached from what it’s imitating, means nothing on its own. Ana likes to fuck here because it makes everything seem like a dream, a personal fantasy: enjoyable, but completely unknown to the rest of the world. Something private that belongs only to her.  
  
The game is, in fact, still going when Ana finishes braiding her hair. She hasn’t been counting, but she’s pretty certain they’ve surpassed their previous record. Jack’s face, in profile, is solid and grim. Gabriel is smiling. They look like such parodies of one another that Ana has to turn her face away to keep from laughing. She watches from the corner of her eye. Paper, scissors, rock, rock.  
  
They’ve played scissors six times in a row when Ana abruptly stands up and makes her way over. She walks in a complete circle around both of them, then stops beside Jack. She leans her head against his shoulder. The dildo brushes against his leg. He flinches a little, instinctively, but doesn’t take his eyes of Gabriel.  
  
Nevertheless, both of them pause in perfect unison, waiting to see why she’s come to them. Ana studies their hands: closed fists suspended in the air between their bodies. She looks into Gabriel’s face. He’s stopped smiling; he just looks impatient, now.  
  
“He’s going to play paper next,” she murmurs to Jack, not lowering her voice at all.  
  
Jack says, “What?”  
  
“Paper. You should play scissors.”  
  
Jack opens his mouth, then closes it. He glances back and forth between them. “You’re bullshitting me,” he says.

Ana says, "I would _never_!"  
  
Gabriel just shrugs. “Doesn’t matter what she says, Jack; you’re playing _me_ , not her. Are you ready or what?”  
  
“No, I’m not fucking ready! What is she talking about? Have you been passing signals or something?”  
  
She and Gabriel say “no” at the same time, which is, perhaps, not wholly reassuring to Jack.  
  
They’ve unsettled him. He opens his fist and rubs his palm against the thigh of his pants before clenching his hand again. His eyes flicker back and forth, scanning Gabriel’s face over and over again.  
  
Gabriel’s smile comes back, wide and full of teeth. “What’s the matter, Jack? Caught between a rock and a hard place?”  
  
Jack inhales deeply. “I’m going to strangle you to death,” he says.  
  
“You can do whatever you want if you win, Jack. So show me what you’ve got.”  
  
“Paper,” Ana whispers one more time.  
  
They swing their fists: one, two, three times. Jack throws out rock. Gabriel plays paper. There’s a second-long pause, and then Gabriel triumphantly slaps his palm onto Jack’s fist with enough force to knock his hand right out of the air.  
  
Jack loses his mind. He whirls away from Gabriel, bringing both hands up to his temples, and paces up and down the room three times. His face is full of astonished fury.  
  
“The fuck!” he says at the completion of his third circuit. He rounds on Ana. “How the _fuck_! How did you know he was going to do that?”  
  
“Oh, I didn’t,” she says. “I just wanted to see if he could predict what you were going to do.”  
  
Gabriel grins at him, wolfish. “Always have, always will.”  
  
Jack sneers back at him, and Ana pats him between his shoulder blades. “Do you want a rematch? Best two out of three? We’ve got all night.”  
  
The suggestion works: as soon as the possibility of _changing the rules_ is raised, Jack scoffs and shakes his head. “No,” he mutters, looking at the wall.  
  
“Well, then, it’s settled!” Ana says brightly. “What’s your call, Gabriel?”  
  
Gabriel has an answer ready: “Eyes closed. Hands behind his back the whole time.”  
  
“Easy,” Jack says, confidently.  
  
“Do you want them bound?” Ana asks.  
  
Gabriel looks Jack over once, and, even though she is not the object of the gaze, Ana feels heat rise between her ears and collarbones. It’s a devouring look. “No. He can manage,” he says.  
  
Ana walks backwards to the bed and sits on the edge, her feet slightly apart. She doesn’t need to say anything: Jack just tugs on his shirt and peels it over his head. As soon as his shirt is off, he folds his arms behind his back and closes his eyes, his head dipping a little. He’s standing in profile, and Ana can see that he’s already starting to breathe harder. The bitterness of defeat has not lasted too long.  
  
“Help get me warmed up, Morrison,” she calls out.  
  
Jack turns toward the bed and manages, in two steps, to veer wildly off course. Gabriel glides forward to take his elbow and guide him the rest of the way. When Gabriel presses on Jack’s shoulder, he folds onto his knees. Gabriel crouches, too, and steers Jack’s head down until his cheek brushes against the dildo. Jack turns his head to line himself up better, then simply opens his mouth and lets her slip the end of the dildo onto his tongue. His mouth closes, and he shuffles a little closer on his knees. Ana raises her hips to meet him, and they fall easily and immediately into a gentle rhythm, an unchallenging pace for Jack to maintain. For a moment she just watches Jack’s face—watches his ears and cheekbones and lips start to turn red—and then she lets her gaze drift down the length of his back. His hands, clasped loosely around either elbow, have already started to shift. His fingers tense rhythmically, making his knuckles pulse white. He’s never going to be able to keep them behind his back, she thinks; and, immediately, she decides that she’s going to make this last until Jack falls apart, one way or another.  
  
She darts her eyes to Gabriel, kneeling serenely beside the bed, and tips her chin at him. She doesn’t have any specific intentions, but she expects that he has some ideas of his own, and the nod means _do what you will_. Instantly, Gabriel puts a hand between Jack’s shoulder blades, slides it to the back of his head, and pushes him slowly but intractably onto the dildo. Jack has not tried to take it very deep yet, and he instinctively resists for a half second before he allows himself to be pressed down, gulping once, desperately, as he accommodates the whole length of it. When he’s all the way down, Gabriel holds him there. Jack’s nostrils flare, wanting to draw breath. Ana goes still, not moving her hips at all.  
  
Then she feels Jack’s chest hitch, and Gabriel pulls him up just before he starts coughing. He lets Jack suck in two big, unhindered breaths, then guides him right back down. Again Jack swallows the dildo down to the base, and again Gabriel holds him there, panting through his nose, until he’s on the verge of choking. When Gabriel pulls him up a second time, a thick string of saliva breaks and lands on his chest. Now it’s not just the delicate, thin-skinned parts of his face that are flushed: he’s gone pink all the way down to his chest, and he’s visibly sweating. He swallows heavily, sniffs, and then he’s being bent over again. Ana lets Gabriel keep him there for five seconds, his mouth and throat filled, and then she reaches down and pinches his nose shut. With the dildo pressing down his throat, Jack couldn't breathe even with his nose unblocked, but the gesture is a signal that he's under their complete control. Gabriel tears his eyes away from Jack to look up at her, satisfyingly startled. Jack makes a muffled noise, an ambiguous sound that might be annoyance or enjoyment, and wobbles his head back and forth just to see if she’ll let go. She doesn’t.  
  
Gabriel doesn’t let go, either. Seconds pass. They reach, then surpass, the maximum amount of time he was previously held down. None of them make a sound. Jack starts to twitch. His chest spasms desperately as he fights down the instincts hammering at his entire body to shake them off so he can _breathe_. He rocks back and forth slightly. His face changes color, darkening; his eyelids shiver without opening.  
  
At last, Gabriel reaches past Jack with his other hand and taps her wrist. Ana withdraws her hand, and Gabriel yanks Jack up. He reels back from her with a gasp that borders on a sob. His chest heaves erratically, and some of the flush drains from his face as he finally takes in air. He’d tip over backwards from light-headedness, she thinks, if Gabriel weren’t anchoring him in place with a hand on the base of his neck and the small of his back.  
  
“Is there,” he pants, “is there some reason I’m being tested so much today?”  
  
Ana looks at Gabriel for inspiration. He just tips his head toward one shoulder, offering nothing.  
  
“It’s fun,” she supplies.  
  
Jack takes this in stride, laughing a little hoarsely. “Well, alright,” he says. “Come on, then; what else have you got?”  
  
Ana reaches out to cup his jaw and draws her thumb across his lower lip, relishing in the ever-so-small jump he can’t suppress. “That’s for us to know and you to find out.”  
  
Jack’s throat bobs. But she’s not quite ready to move on, so hooks him around the neck and draws him down one more time. Jack opens his mouth without hesitation. But no sooner has she started to thrust leisurely than Jack sniffs twice and clears his throat. His nose has started to run.  
  
Ana brushes the back of her hand against his cheek. “Do you need a tissue?” she asks.  
  
Jack hesitates, then gives a small nod. She lifts his head by the chin. Gabriel is already holding a tissue from the box on the bed. He presses it to Jack’s face so he can clear his nose, then drops the used tissue into a waste bin that’s stationed next to the bed.  
  
“Not going to say ‘thank you?’” he asks, slipping his fingers into Jack’s hair to give his head a scolding little shake.  
  
Jack just snorts and jerks his head out from under Gabriel’s hand. “That’s what you deserve for making me keep my hands behind my back.”  
  
Gabriel scoffs. “Thought you said it was easy.”  
  
“It is, but I’m going to swoon with gratitude after being suffocated with a fake dick.”  
  
Gabriel turns to her with a very flat expression. “Shut him up for me, Amari.”  
  
“Help get him ready for me, then,” she counters.  
  
Gabriel’s mouth tilts into a wicked line, and he wordlessly reaches past her to take the bottle of lubricant from the bed.  
  
Ana splays her hand over the top of Jack’s head again. He goes down a little more reluctantly than before, sensing the danger of another coordinated assault about to take place. But he relaxes, gradually, when Ana starts him off with the same slow, languid pace with which they first began, her hips just barely rolling. This lasts while Gabriel begins to do his part: he unbuckles Jack’s belt, unzips him, and slides his pants and underwear down his legs. Jack shifts onto one knee and then the other so Gabriel can strip his legs completely, and his breathing starts to go ragged before Gabriel has even touched him skin-to-skin.  
  
Just the sound of the cap opening makes Jack’s body jolt like he’s taken an unexpected blow. A moment later, one of Gabriel’s hands settles on the middle of Jack’s back, and the other goes between his legs. Jack jerks—and Ana meets him with a hard push. He grunts, surprised, but he makes no effort to fight: instead, he slightly changes the angle of his head to accommodate. Ana gives a couple of intermediary thrusts to let him know that, yes, things are going to get rougher, and then she braces both hands on the bed, lifts her hips up, and starts to fuck his mouth the way she really wants to.  
  
Without his hands available to support himself, Jack can’t do anything but take it and try not to fall forward too far—but he doesn’t have to worry about being gentle with her, either. There’s no need for him to guard his teeth, and he bites down just enough for her to feel the catch and drag when he needs a second or two to catch his breath. Nevertheless, she still gags him a couple of times to make his mouth water and his stomach heave, and Jack shudders and jerks between them as Gabriel works him open with his hand.  
  
As the minutes pass, Jack’s knees slide farther apart, and drool starts to run down his chin. Ana suddenly wishes that she could pull the dildo out of his mouth and actually streak his face with it, could leave him messy and marked and unable to do anything about it. Instead, she hooks her thumb into the corner of Jack’s lips and pulls his cheek open, exposing the inside of his mouth, where she can see the dildo sliding against his tongue through the space between his teeth. Jack groans helplessly, his eyelids flickering, and for a moment Ana thinks he’s going to unthinkingly open his eyes. But he remembers himself in time, and his face relaxes.  
  
“Well, Gabriel,” she says, and is rather pleased by how steady and patient her voice sounds, “I think I feel warm now.”  
  
Gabriel rocks his arm forward one more time, doing something that makes Jack buck and choke, then withdraws his hand. “He’s all yours,” he says.  
  
So Ana slips her thumb out of Jack’s mouth and sits farther back on the bed until the dildo slides out through his lips. Then she takes Jack by the chin and lifts his head until his his back is pulled straight. “You can get on the bed,” she says.  
  
Jack sways backwards, rocking his weight onto his ankles so he can lift his knees and rise to his feet. His cock is thick between his thighs, flushed just as dark as his face. The rough treatment hasn't done him any harm. Gabriel stands, too, and takes another tissue to wipe the spit from Jack’s face and to clear his nose one more time, but Jack manages to climb onto the bed with minimal assistance. He totters forward on his knees until he’s no longer at the very edge of the mattress.  
  
Ana puts a hand on his chest and run her fingertips along his collarbone. She looks beyond him at Gabriel and says, “Suggestions?”  
  
His eyes skim over Jack, a glance so quick that it would seem dismissive to anyone who didn’t know him better. “Put him on his face,” he says.  
  
Jack’s mouth shivers, and he hunches his shoulders ever so slightly, as though in self defense. He folds his legs under himself, but he can’t actually bend all the way over without falling onto his face, so Gabriel climbs onto the bed and helps lower him the rest of the way. Jack is left bent over with the left side of his face and one shoulder pressed into the bed, his knees spread wide. He stays like that while Gabriel disinfects his hands and Ana unwraps a condom. She kneels behind Jack, but it’s Gabriel who casually reaches between them to spread lube along the dildo and to pop the tip of it into Jack. Jack bites his own lip, and Ana leans sideways to give Gabriel’s shoulder a little kiss. She hates getting lubricant on her hands before touching someone. Gabriel wipes his hands on another tissue, but he holds eye contact with her as she puts her hands on Jack’s hips and pushes the rest of the way into him. It doesn’t matter that she doesn’t get any physical feedback: the noise she pushes out of Jack—guttural and shaking—makes her ache.  
  
She doesn’t move again, however, until Gabriel has found a spot for himself: sitting at the head of the bed with his arms and ankles crossed, looking for all the world like he’s just settled in to watch the news. He's half hard, an unmistakable swell filling out his lap, but he hasn't so much as unbuttoned himself. He meets her eyes, and that’s when she grabs Jack’s shoulder for leverage and really starts to fuck him.  
  
Jack gasps, and for a while he continues to gasp every time she drives her hips forward; but, gradually, his breathing turns slow and measured, like he’s asleep or trying to steady himself for accuracy during a training exercise. Ana continues to push noises out of him by force, but his mouth is soft and slack, not giving any form to the raw sounds. He barely reacts when Gabriel comes forward several minutes later and picks him up just enough to turn him onto the right side of his face and other shoulder. The left side of his face shows the imprint of every wrinkle and individual thread of the sheets under him. Despite Gabriel’s intervention, Jack’s whole body slowly begins to collapse after that point. He doesn’t put up any resistance. His face and upper body slide forward as she fucks him while his legs sink out from under him until he’s nearly flat on his belly and Ana is all but lying on him, forced to use her arms to hold herself up.  
  
And so Gabriel approaches them again and helps her turn Jack over, and they drip more lubricant between his legs before Ana presses his thighs up to his stomach and pushes back into him. Gabriel stays next to them this time, crouching behind Jack’s head to hold his legs open, nearly folding him in half with his knees up to his shoulders. The change of position helps Jack find his voice again, and he shouts her name once, frantically, when she hoists his pelvis into her lap. It’s a nice position. There are a lot of enjoyable things to look at: Jack’s head thrown back, his torso bent into an arc; his shaking thighs and the sweat running down his chest; the controlled hunger in Gabriel’s face as he looms over Jack. But she knows that Jack can’t be comfortable, not while he’s lying on his arms, so she just relishes everything for as long as possible before she finally slaps the underside of his thigh and pulls out.  
  
They get Jack onto his knees, partially bent over, and she hooks one hand around Jack’s arms where they form a bar across the middle of his back. Ana rocks a little, experimentally, testing their stability, and then she gives Jack a little push. He starts to tip forward, his thighs tensing as his body automatically fights for balance, and then Ana takes a breath and hauls him back by his arms, reversing his momentum. Jack grunts as he sinks back onto the dildo and their bodies slap together. Unfortunately, he’s heavy enough that she nearly tumbles over as Jack crashes back against her, and her legs twinge as she struggles to stabilize herself.  
  
And then Gabriel is kneeling behind her and laying a hand on her hip and on her shoulder and holding her steady. Ana widens her knees and gives Jack another push, then drags him back again by his arms, using his own mass and center of gravity to fuck him while Gabriel absorbs their combined weight. When she lets herself get pushed back far enough that Gabriel has to cushion her with more than just his arms, she brushes against the whole solid length of his erection.  
  
It’s not _easy_ —her legs begin to burn from the effort after only a few minutes—but she knows how to do things that aren’t easy. She could keep this up for hours, and she tells Jack as much, murmuring into his ear that she can just keep fucking him for as long as she wants, for so long that he’ll have to beg her to stop, and Jack groans and shudders and doesn’t beg for anything.  
  
But she doesn’t back down from the threat, either. She keeps up the rhythm for so long that Jack goes soft at some point, though his cock doesn’t stop dripping. His chin bounces against his chest as he’s levered back and forth. Even so, his arms stay locked in place even while Ana continues to unrelentingly pull on them. As time goes on, the burn in Ana’s legs and arms reaches a point where it can’t get any worse, and she simply goes numb to it. Gabriel, for his part, is just _there_ : supporting them but otherwise uninvolved, letting Ana grind against him without any reaction—up until the point when he brings one of his hands to the inside of her thigh. She’s been trying not to think about how wet she’s been this whole time, how the insides of her legs are slippery because of it. She stoutly ignores Gabriel’s hand for as long as possible as he rubs up and down the length of her thigh, but she elbows him in the ribs when he presses at her cunt with the tips of his fingers.  
  
“Don’t distract me or I’m going to drop him,” she hisses. “Go check on him, would you?”  
  
Gabriel drags his blunt fingertips along her thigh as he shifts away and moves around to face Jack. Ana settles back onto her calves, tugging Jack down to sit upright in her lap, and goes still.  
  
Gabriel picks Jack’s head up by the jaw and slaps the side of his face, very lightly. “Still with us, Morrison?”  
  
Jack’s head rolls and then jerks up, like he’s been startled awake from a deep sleep. He grunts, and Ana hears him working his mouth to loosen his tongue. “I’m here,” he mumbles.  
  
“You good?”  
  
“I… oh, God…”  
  
Suddenly, Gabriel lays his hand across the top of Jack’s face, covering his eyes. His fingertips press lightly into Jack’s temples. “Don’t open your eyes,” he murmurs. “Just say what you want.”  
  
Jack sways slightly. “I want you to… to fffu-uck me,” he slurs.  
  
Ana is surprised enough to laugh, and even Gabriel looks somewhat astonished.  
  
“What do you think I’m doing, Morrison?” she asks, smacking a palm against his hip.  
  
Jack’s head sways loosely side to side. “No… I mean…”  
  
But, instead of explaining what he means, Jack pitches forward and slumps against Gabriel. Ana isn’t sure if it's an intentional move, or if he just collapsed. He drags his mouth against Gabriel’s neck and gives a kind of growl. “Take your clothes off… I want to… w-want to…”  
  
Gabriel pushes him back with a hand on his chest, but after several seconds he says, “alright,” in a low, conceding voice.  
  
Gabriel starts to undress himself, and Ana rakes her fingernails up Jack’s stomach and over his chest, and she rubs at his nipple until it tightens up and Jack is hissing and squirming in her lap, his legs opening wider across her own thighs.  
  
When Gabriel is naked, they carefully tilt Jack over until he’s lying on his side with Ana pressed up against the whole length of his body from behind. Gabriel stretches out in front of him, face to face. He runs his thumb around the shell of Jack’s ear.  
  
“Open your legs,” he murmurs.  
  
Jack parts his legs slightly, and Gabriel shifts forward and slides his cock between Jack’s thighs. Jack moans “ _God_ ” as he presses his legs together again. Ana brings up one arm, the one she’s lying on, to cradle the back of Jack’s neck, and she drapes her other arm over his waist. Gabriel too, stretches one of his arms across the both of them, his hand spreading out on her back. They rock against Jack from either side, and he shivers between them. The position limits her range of motion, but it’s less tiring, and it lets her feel every reaction running through Jack’s body. With Jack’s arms still tucked behind his back, his torso is forced into a gentle curve: his chest and hips pushed out while his head is flung back and his ankles are tangled around her legs. For a moment Ana wishes that she could separate herself and see the scene from a different vantage point, standing over them: Jack panting and sweating between them, letting them have whatever they want to take.  
  
Jack’s breath stutters along for a few minutes, then gradually evens out again—which is when Ana slides her hand down his body and begins to stroke his cock. His stomach jumps and tenses, and he starts to get hard again almost immediately. He turns his face into the bed and muffles an indistinct noise into the sheets.  
  
“No, no,” she says. “Don’t hide.”  
  
But before she can do anything, it’s Gabriel who slides a hand around Jack’s jaw and turns his face forward again. Ana picks up her pace a little as a reprimand, and Jack twists fruitlessly, gasping, “Ana-a - _aah - hhah_ ,” in a soft, fractured voice that makes her dizzy. She presses her forehead between Jack’s shoulder. Abruptly, she feels Gabriel shifting himself on the other side of Jack, and then his cock is pushing up against Jack’s, and his fingers slide against hers as he takes both of them in hand at once. Jack dissolves. His whole body thrums like a plucked string; his knees bang into Gabriel as his legs try to curl up. Gabriel doesn’t have a good angle to work his hand, but he grinds against Jack with hard, deliberate motions, crushing him into place between two other bodies.  
  
Jack makes one sharp, formless sound, and then his whole body locks stiff. He goes so tight that Ana can’t move in him at all. His cock jumps in her hand; his hips buck and surge. He shudders through an orgasm—and then _keeps_ shuddering as Gabriel continues to touch him, to move against him. Gabriel drags Jack through every last second of the orgasm and then more, battering him with sensation until Jack folds in on himself and ends up with his face pressed into Gabriel’s shoulder, choking out, “S—ssst—”  
  
He can’t finish the word—but Gabriel stops.  
  
None of them move for a moment. Then Ana rubs a gentle circle over Jack’s quivering stomach.  
  
“Jack,” she whispers, “this may hurt a little.”  
  
She hears Jack swallow several times, like there’s something in this throat, before he gives the barest nod.  
  
She pulls out of Jack as slowly as possible—not that she could do otherwise, given how tight he still is. He winces but doesn’t make a sound.  
  
Gabriel still hasn’t moved, but his eyes track her as she sits up carefully. She has to turn away to throw out the condom, and then she unbuckles the harness. The dildo has warmed up to body temperature, and she unthinkingly runs a hand up the length of it. She sets everything aside, then feels the mattress dipping. When she turns around again, she finds that Gabriel has flipped Jack onto his back and is straddling his hips. He rocks himself back and forth a little, letting his cock drag against Jack’s belly, then begins to pump into his own hand. Well, Ana thinks, this is going to take awhile; might as well get some water. She’s desperately thirsty. But she doesn’t actually turn away. Something makes her keep watching. Gabriel’s eyelids are half lowered, his bottom lip just barely parted. The muscles of his thighs bunch and relax as he shifts. And Jack, utterly spent and drained though he is, is actually moving in response: his heels digging into the bed as he rolls his hips under Gabriel as though he has anything at all to give.  
  
For a moment or two that’s all that happens, just Jack and Gabriel grinding together, and then Gabriel bows down and mutters something into Jack’s ear, and Jack moans and laughs in the same breath, and he turns his head blindly to kiss Gabriel’s jaw, open-mouthed and sloppy. He mumbles against the hard edge of Gabriel’s face, but Gabriel doesn’t laugh in response; he just says one distinctive word— _shit_ —and sits up straight. His hand tightens, and his face crumples, and he comes with a hard, full-body spasm across Jack’s stomach and chest. Jack’s own hips jerk helplessly under him.  
  
When Gabriel is finished, he wipes his hand on Jack’s mouth. Jack huffs and wrinkles his nose.  
  
“Well, Gabriel,” Ana says in the following pause, as Gabriel sits back and quietly basks, “we can always rely on you for a night of real romance.”  
  
Gabriel swings himself off Jack and turns his attention in her, looking not the slightest bit repentant. He reaches out, but she says, “Wait.”  
  
Gabriel stops.  
  
“Jack,” she says, “you can open your eyes now. Don’t move your arms.”  
  
There’s a pause, then Jack says: “Can’t.”  
  
Both of them squint at him. “Can’t?” Gabriel asks.  
  
“Stuck.”  
  
Bewildered, Ana climbs onto the bed, and both of them bend over to study Jack. Indeed, Jack 'cannot': his eyelashes are stuck together by a layer of dried salt. She rubs carefully at one eye, and Gabriel rubs, a little less carefully, at the other. Jack blinks his eyes open a moment later. His pupils are impossibly big, but shrink under the light. His eyelashes remain clumped like he’s just washed off mascara.  
  
“Hi,” he croaks.  
  
They help Jack sit upright so his weight won’t be on his arms anymore, then move him to the head of the bed where he can rest in relative safety.  
  
“How are your arms?” Ana asks.  
  
“My arms…?” Jack stares at her vacantly. “Oh. They’re… there.”  
  
“Well,” she replies, “that’s good.”  
  
“Yeah,” Jack agrees. Then his eyes turn to Gabriel. “Hey, Gabriel?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“She’s been… way too fucking smug… all night. Can you please… make her stop for a minute?”  
  
Ana laughs and says, “Oh, very threaten—”  
  
But she doesn’t finish the entire word because that’s when Gabriel _lunges_ at her. She feels herself moving, and being moved, and then she’s flat on her back with her head hanging off the edge of the bed and her hand around Gabriel’s throat. He’s on his hands and knees over her. Her heart hammers in her chest, and it reverberates through the rest of her body.  
  
She loosens her hand, finger by finger. He inhales slowly.  
  
“If you’re so desperate,” she whispers, with a sharp clip, “just say _please_.”  
  
“Please,” Gabriel echoes back in an indulgent growl, eyes flat and dark.  
  
So she shoves on the top of his head. Gabriel folds his elbows and sinks onto his stomach, and he slides down her body and shoves her legs apart, and he spreads her open and pushes his tongue into her. Ana’s head snaps up, then falls back again. She tries to do something with her hands, and only succeeds in slapping the top of Gabriel’s head hard enough to make her own palm sting. He grunts and scrapes his teeth against the tendon in the juncture of her thigh. But he’s being _slow_ , the absolute bastard, working his tongue and lips in leisurely circles and furrows. Ana digs her foot into his ribs.  
  
“I suppose,” she pants, “that if you’re ready for a nap, I can just finish the job myself.”  
  
His eyes flash up at her, and then Gabriel is sitting back, sitting up, dragging her right along with him with her thighs still pressed on either side of his face. Suddenly she’s hanging upside-down with her legs over Gabriel’s shoulders and his mouth buried against her cunt. She props herself up with her arms for a few seconds, leveling herself out as best she can, and then her elbows simply collapse from under her. Blood rushes to her head; her body throbs. Gabriel laves at her, and his arms are tight around her, and she just has to hang there and endure it all, even though it’s so direct and intense that she wants, instinctively, to make it _less_ again. Her hands blindly scramble. One encounters the solid mass of Gabriel’s thigh. She digs her fingers in, but the only sounds out of her traitorous mouth are little bursts of incoherent noise: _ahh—ahh—ahh._  
  
Her legs seize up all at once, and then she’s kicking and thrashing as Gabriel pushes her over the edge into a long, shattering orgasm. When she can’t take it anymore, when it feels like every part of her is going to burst, she whacks her palm down on Gabriel’s thigh so hard that he jumps.  
  
His grip relaxes at once, and he lowers her torso slowly. She rolls off his lap and lies face down on the bed. She doesn’t move for awhile.  
  
But she’s still terribly thirsty, so at last she props herself up on shaky arms and looks around. Gabriel is holding a water bottle to Jack’s lips.  
  
“Oh, Jack,” she says, feeling both guilty and annoyed that she’s been made to feel guilty. “You can stop now.”  
  
Jack drops his arms to his sides with a groan. His hands are white, but there are reddened finger marks marring his arms.  
  
“How are you?” she asks, crawling closer.  
  
“Hands feel weird,” he mutters, attempting to make a fist. His fingers only curl half way.  
  
She and Gabriel each wordlessly take one of Jack’s arms and start to rub the feeling back into them. Jack looks like a wreck: eyelids red, hair raked into chaotic shapes, dried come on half his body. The last time she saw the backs of his thighs, they were ruddy from constant friction. After a couple minutes of massaging at him, Ana wets a tissue and dabs at Jack until he’s approximately clean. He looks… better.  
  
All at once, Ana starts to laugh: hysterical, unstoppable. She has to cover her face.  
  
“What’s so funny?” Jack asks, after this has gone on for an inappropriate amount of time.  
  
Ana peeks out at him—mussed and bleary and bewildered—from between her fingers and starts to wheeze from half-suppressed laughter. “Oh, Jack,” she gasps. “You should—you should have played scissors.”

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  If the rock/paper/scissors scene seems familiar, that may be because it's a little nod to the Hunter Exam trials from HunterxHunter... with some obvious differences.
> 
> This story can also be read on [tumblr](http://strangefingers.tumblr.com/post/156546895494/give-be-taken-crookedfingers-overwatch).


End file.
